


Christmas Fairy

by who_la_hoop



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community:daily_deviant, M/M/M, Multi, cross-dressing, kinky kristmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-30
Updated: 2008-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/who_la_hoop/pseuds/who_la_hoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the fairy on top of the tree gets a cold Harry rescues it – with unexpected results, courtesy of one Severus Snape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Fairy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alisanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/gifts).



> Written for the Daily_Deviant Kinky Kristmas fest. [](http://alisanne.insanejournal.com/profile)[](http://alisanne.insanejournal.com/)**alisanne** asked for a smutty Harry/Draco/Severus, with cross-dressing, under the Christmas tree.

There were certain things it was essential to know to understand a Slytherin. Of course, a man's life was not guided by the House he'd been sorted into at school – that would be ridiculous – but some things were inescapable. Slytherins were ambitious and determined and goal-orientated, no matter the goal. Slytherins were selfish. Slytherins could not tolerate being mocked, or appearing at a disadvantage. And, most of all, they never _ever_ shared their toys.

It was a pity no-one had ever told Harry Potter that, Severus Snape thought without much regret, as he waited in his – their – living room. He took a meditative sip from the glass in his hand and looked around him. The alcohol, warm and expensive-tasting, slid down his throat and helped contribute to his pleasure at his surroundings. He would never admit quite how – ugh – happy he was these days, but the chaos around him was curiously soothing after years of the dank, dreary squalor of Spinner's End and the clinical environment of his rooms at Hogwarts.

Draco and Harry had been in charge of decorations for this, their first Christmas in their tentative, explosive and curiously difficulty-free 'situation', which Harry persisted in calling a relationship. (Although he blushed the colour of a tomato when he said it, and said it so quietly that it was almost inaudible – which for some reason made Draco mock him in a way that Severus thought was surprisingly affectionate). The problem with Draco and Harry being in charge of the decorations was twofold: one, neither of them had any taste, whatsoever, and two, they both had _different_ kinds of bad taste. The room was a riot of colour and flashing lights, and 'tasteful' decorations in white and silver that cost so much that just the thought of it made Severus twitch with the waste.

The centrepiece of it all was the tree – a huge, enchanted green thing with branches that swayed as if in a gentle breeze, covered in small, unhappy birds charmed to tweet until their throats gave up. Above the tree a small cloud gave forth a gentle, consistent shower of snow. They couldn't get near the tree, of course, without being frozen by it, but Draco had scowled when Severus had suggested it was perhaps a bit over the top, and Harry had been so impressed by it that Severus had given up. They only thing missing from the tree – which was surrounded by boxes and boxes of presents (all surrounded in turn by a weather-proof magical field to protect them from the snow and the excrement of the anxious birds) – was a fairy on the top. They'd had one, of course – Draco had chosen a particularly sweet one with curly blonde hair and an exquisite dress – but Harry had complained once he'd realised it was real. As soon as the girl had caught a cold and started sneezing, Harry had waited until Draco's back was turned and released her. It would have been funny if Draco hadn't sulked about it for two days straight.

Severus smirked into his glass and took another sip. The knowledge that the alcohol had come from the Malfoy cellars – and here he was, drinking it, whilst in the company of two teenagers with whom he had a most improper relationship, made it taste even sweeter. The knowledge of what Harry and Draco were doing right now – and what Malfoy senior would say if he could see it all – made _everything_ taste sweeter. And he didn't even have to feel irritated about how long the young men were taking. There was no way they'd start without him. Severus smiled to himself. For if there was no greater truth than that Slytherins didn't like to share – then it was equalled by the fact that Gryffindors were fair and just. Severus' grin widened into a smirk. Draco must be suffering quite impressive torment by now – and how much Severus approved of that notion.

*****

 

Draco stared at the parcels on the bed, his usually attractive face screwed up in to a sulky, childish pout. "There is no way I'm doing it," he announced, for the fifth or sixth time in the past ten minutes.

"You don't even know what's in there," Harry said, prodding at one of the parcels with a finger, trying not to sound as dubious as he felt.

Draco cocked his head in Harry's direction, raising one elegant eyebrow. "Oh, really?" he said, very sweetly.

"It's not _my_ fault," Harry said, wanting to establish this before Draco opened the parcels and hit the roof. Because Harry was certain that he would. How could he not? Harry hadn't even seen the contents of the parcels and he already knew that _he_ would have hit the roof if it had been him. "Why don't you just tell him no? He can't make—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," Draco said, turning back to the parcels on the bed with a more determined air. "I'm doing it."

Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, wondering exactly how long he'd have to sit there until Draco made up his mind. He wanted to be back in the living room with a glass of Butterbeer in his hand, enjoying Severus and Draco taking the piss first out of each other – and then, as they got progressively more drunk, ganging up on Harry himself. Harry didn't mind being ganged up on. It was one of the rare occasions when Severus and Draco seemed to get along, rather than everything being an epic battle for supremacy. As far as Harry was concerned, they could all be equal and that would be more than nice, but the other two didn't seem to see it that way.

Draco picked up the largest of the parcels and shook it. It made a rustling noise and was, undoubtedly, clothing of some kind. Harry didn't quite know what was going on, but it was obviously another one of the bizarre mind-games that the Slytherins seemed fond of indulging in – and Harry could never quite tell how spitefully they were meant. But, as usual, he was stuck in the middle again.

"Why don't you just open it?" Harry said, taking the package out of Draco's hand and sliding a thumb under the gap between paper and spellotape.

Draco yanked it away from him, colour springing up on his cheeks. "I will," he said crossly. "In a moment."

"What is this, anyway?" Harry said, giving up. "Severus just said that he'd bought something today that would make the Christmas decorations complete, and—"

"—that you should come and help me with it," Draco interrupted, glaring at the parcels once more. "Yes, I know that, Harry."

"Well, it can't be that bad, can it?" Harry grinned. "If it's a Santa costume then I think Severus should wear it, personally. Although I'm not sure how well he'd suit the beard."

Draco shot him a withering look.

"Oh, come on, Draco, cheer up," Harry said, reaching over to him and tugging him closer by the arm.

Draco allowed himself to be tugged, but his expression didn't change into anything more cheerful.

"Just open it up, let's see what it is, and we can get back to Severus and our merry Christmas eve," Harry suggested, smiling at Draco.

"You are ridiculously naïve," Draco sniffed, but his face relaxed a fraction. "Not to mention—"

"Draco," Harry said, giving him a small shove. "Shut up."

Draco did smile then, with his habitual tiny quirk of the lips that reminded Harry each time how madly he was in love. He still couldn't believe his choices – although they'd hardly been choices, not really, the two men slotting into his life almost without permission – both his or their own. He had a vague notion that Hermione had had something to do with it, but he didn't want to pry too hard into that dark time when he'd wondered if he'd come out of it with his sanity intact. It was a miracle that he had – that they all had – and life was better than he could ever have imagined, even if it was down to the most unlikely of persons.

Harry was pulled out of his reminiscences by a noise. It was the noise, he thought with trepidation, of a Malfoy exploding. He looked down at the package in Draco's hand, which was now half-open.

"I AM NOT WEARING THIS," Draco said.

Harry looked at the package again – and at the contents of the other parcels, which Draco was tearing into. He wet his lips nervously.

"Tell me I don't have to wear this," Draco said, one hand closing around Harry's upper arm and squeezing so tight it hurt. "He's gone mad. Insane. Honestly, Harry, either that or he's even more of a pervert than—"

Harry wet his lips again, but didn't say anything.

"Harry?" Draco said. He relaxed his grip and waved a hand in front of Harry's eyes. "Have you expired from shock?"

Harry couldn't help it. He'd tried as hard as he could, but there was no way he could hold it in any longer. He burst in to laughter – big, noisy bursts that hurt his stomach and made him splutter and his eyes water. He tried to calm down, but one look at the outraged expression on Draco's face set him off again.

"I'm glad you think it's funny," Draco said with a sniff. He folded his arms and tilted his chin into the air. "Because let me assure you that I do _not_."

"Oh, _Draco_," Harry groaned, wiping his eyes and attempting to stop his giggles. "I'm sure he doesn't actually expect you to—"

"He does," Draco snapped. "He expects me to—" He paused, scowling hard – "to wear this _outfit_ and be—"

"The fairy on top of the tree!" Harry spluttered, breaking into laughter again.

"It's not _funny_," Draco all but wailed.

Harry nodded, biting his lip. "It's terrible," he managed. "Really terrible."

Draco raised an eyebrow at him. "How do you know that it's not meant for you to wear, not me?"

Harry felt his blood run cold. "M-me?"

Draco snorted. "Don't look so distressed, Harry." He picked up the dress between finger and thumb, as if it was something distasteful. "It wouldn't fit you – you're broader than me."

"Are you calling me fat?" Harry grinned, perking up again after his terrible shock.

"You're hopeless," Draco said, shaking his head. "Even your jokes are puerile. Not—" he pulled a face – "as puerile as this joke though, I must confess." He sighed. "God. How the fuck am I supposed to get into these?"

"These?"

Draco's lips pursed for a moment and he waved his hand irritably. "There are – are under-things, of some description. Makes you glad you aren't a girl, doesn't it?"

"There's a letter or something there," Harry said, pointing.

Draco picked it up, his face still irritable and disdainful. Then he laughed – in a kind of mortified, amused way, and chucked it in Harry's direction.

Harry read. It was – in Severus' bold, messy scrawl – a list of instructions. From the sounds of it, getting Draco dressed was going to be a two-man job.

"If you ever tell anybody about this, I'll—" Draco stopped, frowning. "I'll do something terrible and evil, so just don't, do you understand?"

"Terrible?" Harry grinned.

Draco's lips quirked. "And evil. Don't forget the evil, Potter. It's important."

"Right, _Malfoy_," Harry said, pushing his glasses up his nose and turning back to the pile of half-opened parcels on the bed. He clamped his lips tightly together and tried not to laugh again.

"Just remember, Harry, we're doing this, but I'm keeping my dignity, ok?"

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to words. Severus was an evil sod, and no doubt about it.

*****

 

It wasn't that they hadn't been physically intimate before. They had – sort of. If kissing counted. He'd even kissed Draco whilst sitting in Severus' lap, and that had been one of the most arousing – and terrifying – things he'd ever done, if he was honest with himself. But Severus had taken so long to recover from his injuries, and it hadn't felt fair to – to indulge himself with Draco while they couldn't do the same with Severus. And Harry still hadn't got the logistics sorted out in his mind. Was he supposed to _switch_ between the two men, on a kind of rota basis? Because he didn't much like the idea of that – but then he didn't like the idea of Draco and Severus alone even more. Besides, they didn't seem to like each other much, even though they were obviously trying – in a strange, twisted way - to get along for Harry's sake. And the idea of – of _both at once_ was unthinkable, because – because of a thousand reasons that Harry didn't really want to go into, even in the privacy of his own head.

So when Draco sat down on the edge of the bed, his face tense and yet tinged with a smugness that didn't bode well and said – very casually – "go on, undress me then," Harry nearly died.

"Um, can't you do it yourself?" Harry said.

Draco shrugged, and Harry was struck by how fluid his movements were. He had grace where Harry had none, and Harry felt oddly proud. But then Draco stood up – shifted so he was right in front of Harry – and proceeded to take his clothes off.

Harry could hardly complain. After all, he'd just told Draco to do it. And technically he knew that Draco could hardly put the costume on if he was still wearing his wizarding robes. But there was a big difference between the abstract idea of 'Draco changing clothes' and the _actuality_ of Draco doing a strip-tease in front of him. Of course, Draco wasn't doing it in a sexy way. He was just unfastening the intricate clasp at the neck of his formal robe and sliding it off his shoulders, letting the heavy robe slide to the floor around his feet. His expression was serious, but his cheeks were flushing and that didn't help Harry's composure.

A soft wool jumper followed the path of the robe, seriously messing up Draco's hair as it was unceremoniously pulled over his head, and then a crisp shirt took far too long to be unbuttoned. Draco's fingers were shaking a little, Harry realised, but he didn't dare say anything because he suspected Draco would hit him if he did.

When Draco kicked off his shoes, toed off his socks and undid his belt, sliding down his trousers, Harry swallowed hard and tried not to stare. Draco was now clad solely in his boxers – tight, white things that did nothing to conceal the bulge between his legs. When Harry noticed a small damp patch he managed to look away, his heart beating so loud that he was sure Draco must be able to hear it.

And then – oh _God_ \- Draco hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and _pulled them down_, his cock bobbing free and pointing straight at Harry. And there was no _way_ that Harry couldn't not look at that, feeling his face overheat as he took in the tangle of white-blond hair at the base and the drop of liquid – ohgodohgodohgod – at the tip.

"Enjoying the view?" Draco said.

Harry looked up, attempting to close his mouth. Draco's face was red and he was attempting a smirk – but Harry thought that Draco was as nervous as he was. "We – ah – we should—" He moved his head in the direction of the instruction list.

Draco nodded. "Go on then."

Harry scrambled for the list and then rooted through the parcels, looking for the first item on the list. Knickers. How hard could it be? He swallowed hard, trying to keep a cool head. So Draco was naked in front of him? That was no excuse to break his self-control. Ah – these must be them. He pulled them out and turned back to Draco.

"Fucking hell," Draco said, eyeing them.

Harry looked more closely at what was in his hand. They were pink. And could be described as skimpy. He took a deep breath and offered them to Draco.

Draco shook his head. "You're dressing me, remember?"

Harry closed his eyes for a moment then slid off the bed, positioning himself on his knees before Draco. He was close enough to touch Draco's cock with his mouth. He didn't, though. He made Draco lift first one foot, then the other, slipping the knickers over his ankles and attempting to rise and slide them up without brushing his face on Draco's privates.

When the knickers reached Draco's thighs he had to angle them carefully to make sure his cock didn't slip out of a leg-hole – instead trapping it against his stomach, the elastic of the waist holding it in place. Draco made a soft noise and cleared his throat and Harry, feeling his own cock twitch – painfully hard in his trousers – snapped for a moment, sliding his hand up and over the outside of Draco's knickers and over the hardness with them.

Draco made another noise – louder this time – and pressed against Harry's hand, and when Harry looked up his lips were parted and his eyes soft and unguarded. "Er," Harry said, dropping his hand and looking over at the list again in an attempt to calm himself down. It didn't much work. So instead he stood up and, gripping Draco's arms, pushed him round and down so they had changed places.

Draco cleared his throat. "Harry?"

"Stockings," Harry said desperately, reaching round Draco and brandishing them, before dropping to his knees again. He slid the soft, white silky things up both of Draco's legs before remembering the belt. He had to do something to attach the belt to the stocking tops, according to the instructions – but his brain wasn't entirely working. Not with Draco so undressed and _hard_ in front of him. Each time he tried to get the fastening to work the side of his hand brushed against Draco's hard on and Draco took in a sharp breath. His cock was straining at the knickers even harder now – the thin material damp and stained where the head pressed against it.

Finally Harry managed it – before realising there were two more fastenings to go. It seemed more difficult to move Draco again, so he moved closer between Draco's legs, sliding his arms around Draco's waist and trying to secure the fastenings without actually seeing them. It was hard work – made even harder by Draco's arms sliding around his shoulders. He could smell Draco now – an earthy, musky smell, and it made it spectacularly difficult to concentrate.

Still, Harry had a job to do and, eventually, he managed to do it, reaching for the list again for dear life. If he stopped for even a moment, who knew what he'd do?

When Draco slid on the high-heeled shoes and stood up, Harry nearly fainted from loss of blood to the head. It was all gone – all of it – and he knew exactly where it was: between his legs. He was so hard it _hurt_. It wasn't so much the girls' things – it was _Draco_ in the girls' things. Draco was so angular and sharp in his features that it was easy to forget that he was beautiful. But the feminine clothing somehow softened him. Skin flushed, eyes wide and unable to hide how turned on he was, Draco was _gorgeous_. He didn't have much of a shape – tall and verging on skinny – but he was lean and long and oh so _very_ lovely. Harry wondered if Severus had known quite how lovely Draco would look in the getup – and then cursed himself. Of _course_ he knew. Severus always knew awkward things like that. He'd probably done it on purpose, in the knowledge that Harry wouldn't touch without knowing whether Severus would be ok with it, if he did.

The next item – the corset – was a challenge.

It wasn't so much that it was difficult to work out (although it took a couple of goes to get it right), it was the tightening. Draco, palms flat against the wall, legs spread wide, was bracing himself for Harry to pull the strings. Harry was surprised he hadn't come already – forget that he hadn't been touched, it was barely necessary. It was the most arousing sight _ever_. And when Harry pulled hard on the corset strings, Draco made the most encouraging of noises, and the back of his neck went red.

Draco didn't turn around when Harry dropped the dress over his head, just raised his arms and stood obediently still as Harry did up the tiny buttons and fluffed the skirt so that it fell evenly around his legs. Then he turned.

"If you laugh I'll kill you, remember?" Draco said, through clenched teeth.

Harry tried to speak. He wasn't sure whether he was going to laugh or not. Draco did look pretty ridiculous wearing pale pink – a _lot_ of pale pink, all flounces with lots of lacy bits. His waist looked tiny and he was even taller than usual because of the shoes. But, almost to his surprise, he didn't laugh. Instead, he found himself stepping forward and pressing Draco against the wall.

Draco made a surprised noise but didn't struggle, relaxing against Harry, his arms coming up around Harry's shoulders. Harry could feel Draco's cock through the layers of fabric between them, and he ground their hips together. Draco yanked at Harry's hair and their lips met in a kiss that was nearer to a collision. Draco was sucking and biting at Harry's mouth in a desperate, frantic way that had Harry shuddering against him.

Harry pulled away, panting. "We can't," he managed.

"Why not?" Draco said, his voice almost a whine. His eyes narrowed. "He did this to humiliate me, you know. I might as well get some enjoyment out of it."

"I'm sure he didn't," Harry said faintly. He had no idea how Severus' mind worked, not really, but he suspected that although humiliation was in there somewhere – the whole _Draco, erect, needy and fucking gorgeous_ had also featured highly in his plans. The question was: what was the next step?

"No?" Draco quirked an eyebrow.

"Come on," Harry mumbled, making a decision before he could regret it. "Let's go." He wrapped his fingers around the wrist of Draco's right hand and pulled him out of the room.

*****

 

It was fucking difficult to walk in the stupid heels, Draco thought. He had no idea why girls would want to wear anything so ridiculous. Although – he smirked to himself as Harry tugged on his arm – maybe he did. The look in Harry's eyes when he'd checked out Draco wearing the aforementioned footwear had been most gratifying, even if Draco _did_ feel like the biggest twat to have ever graced the earth. He was wearing a dress. A _dress_. And not even a set of women's formal robes – which would have been less nauseating, as formal wizard wear hardly varied from female to male. It was a Muggle thing, all form-fitting and clingy and over-embellished with lace and stupidity. It was low in the chest, and he didn't _have_ a chest – although he did have a waist now, thanks to the instrument of torture that meant he could hardly breathe right now. And at every step he could _feel_ the tight elastic of the (ugh, cheap and tacky) knickers, making the fabric shift uncomfortably against his cock.

And that wasn't even _mentioning_ the way that Harry had looked at him – had looked at his _cock_ \- and the feeling of his hand pressing briefly against it, and his hips against Draco's own . . .

Draco needed a cold shower, and he needed one _now_. Also, he wanted to kill Severus – who must have known that having to undress in front of Harry would have this effect on him. And now he'd have to – what? Sit about like a doll and have Severus laugh at him, and not get any relief? Fucking Severus. And fucking Harry with his noble morals, who was ensuring that if Severus couldn't get any then none of them could.

And the worst thing about the whole business? Severus was _better_ now, Merlin rot him, and obviously doing this not only because he didn't want Harry touching Draco ever, but also because he wanted to kill Draco in the process.

But then Draco changed his mind. The worst thing was definitely the look on Severus' face when he saw Draco in the dress. Or – he changed his mind _again_ \- suddenly finding himself on the top of the fucking Christmas tree with a flick of Severus' wand.

"Severus, don't be a git," Harry said, but he was evidently trying not to die of laughter.

At least he was trying though, Draco thought sourly. Severus wasn't even trying – just howling with laughter. Although that was a change, Draco supposed. Severus rarely laughed all that much. And now Harry was watching Severus laugh, and he looked so happy that Draco wanted to spit. Harry should be smiling that way at Draco, for fuck's sake, not at that stupid idiot!

"Let him down," Harry said again, this time not hiding his smile.

"If I must," Severus said, "although you must admit he looks very charming there, and it quite serves him right."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, maybe. But go on."

Severus flicked his wrist and Draco floated to the ground in an embarrassing way. He realised he was covered in snowflakes, beading his hair and spotting his arms and shoulders. It was awful – 100 per cent sodding awful. He would have to consider Obliviating them both. Or at least Severus, at any rate. He sort of liked the half-amused, half-awed look in Harry's eyes. It had potential.

"Sit on my knee, little girl," Severus suggested, grinning in an evil way.

"Fuck off," Draco said and flounced over to where Harry sat. Harry started when Draco sat sideways on him, curling one arm around his neck, but he soon relaxed, wrapping one arm around Draco's waist and hooking the other across Draco's thighs to hold him in place.

Draco felt like a bit of a fool – he had to sit so upright, the corset wouldn't allow anything else – but he stared at Severus, and Severus stared right back. Draco thought that he'd won this round, but he couldn't tell for sure – he had no idea what Severus had planned next.

Severus took a sip from the glass in his hand. Then he smiled and Draco really, really didn't like it. "You must be feeling uncomfortable in that, Draco," he said in a neutral tone.

Draco nodded warily.

"Then you should take it off."

Draco didn't move. Did the old sod mean that he should take it off _here_? In front of _him_? Draco had considered what living in this unorthodox arrangement had meant – but he'd tried not to think too hard about what the bedroom arrangements would be in the future. Currently they all slept separately – and Draco had hopes that soon Harry would move into his own room. Severus, he'd decided, could like it or lump it. He could be a platonic friend to them both. Possibly Draco would allow Harry to kiss him occasionally – out of pity – but he wasn't sharing. He really wasn't sharing. He _definitely_. . .

Then Draco looked at Harry's face. Fucking _hell_. Who was he kidding? He'd do anything for the Gryffindor moron – anything at all. Even if it meant naked proximity to his former head of House. Of course he'd expect more than adequate recompense, but still. He grimaced.

"You ok?" Harry asked.

Draco stared at him, rather taken aback. He'd forgotten (how could he have forgotten?) that Harry was just so – so _Harry_ about everything. Which meant that he was disturbingly anxious that both Draco and Severus should be happy as often as possible. Draco nodded, feeling quite distracted. Harry was stroking his hip with one thumb through the layers of fabric, soft enough to be incredibly frustrating. And he could _feel_ Severus' gaze burning into him, which was peculiar, and was failing to dampen his arousal, which was even more peculiar.

"You don't need to be embarrassed," Harry mumbled against his neck. The feel of Harry's breath was making Draco feel weak – and stupid that he felt weak. "We both love you."

Draco nearly shot back with a denial that Severus Snape loved him – Snape loved no-one, for fuck's sake – when he realised that Harry had just told him that he loved him. Which was ridiculous and soppy and just so delicious that Draco wanted to roll around in it for the rest of his life.

When Draco looked up he caught Severus' eye by mistake. Severus rolled his eyes but he didn't deny loving Draco, which threw Draco for a moment. Then Severus smiled again, and Draco's stomach dropped.

"You really do look red in the face, Draco," Severus said smoothly. "I think your corsets need loosening. Harry, perhaps you could assist."

"Oh," Harry said, his hand against Draco's hip stilling. "Here?"

Draco wanted to scream – not _here_, please – but if it wasn't here than Harry might not do it. While he wasn't thrilled about appearing in public in such a state, it wasn't as if Severus was exactly going to go bragging about it, was it?

Severus nodded. "Why not?"

Harry was fumbling with the buttons at the back of Draco's dress before Severus had finished speaking, almost, and Draco – hating himself a little for it – leaned into his touch, twisting to make the job easier. When Harry yanked the dress over his head Draco realised that Harry hadn't even waited to undo all the buttons, as he heard a ripping sound and saw a button roll to his feet. Before he'd mentally prepared himself for it, he was dressed solely in girl's underwear – ridiculous girl's underwear – in front of two fully clothed men. And he was still completely hard, fuck it all.

It was only when he saw Severus swallow – his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat – that Draco realised that perhaps he did still have the upper hand after all, regardless of appearances.

Until Severus got up, his black formal robe swirling around him, and got to his knees in front of him. Draco's heart stopped. What the hell was he up to? Severus took hold, very gently, of one of Draco's ankles and slid off his shoe. His touch though the stockings covering Draco's feet felt tingly and smooth, and when he did the same to the other foot, Draco relaxed a fraction. Until, that was, Severus began to _massage_ his foot. Harry was loosening the bindings of the corset, and Severus was kneading his foot with a firm but gentle touch. It felt like _bliss_. He leaned back against Harry's chest – he couldn't help himself – and he felt Harry's hand slide down the rigid front of the corset and oh _fuck_. Harry was _not_ going to do that. Not with Severus right in _front_ of Draco. Within, as it were, firing distance.

"Can I?" Harry whispered in his ear, one finger ghosting along the strip of skin between where corset ended and knickers began.

Draco shut his eyes tight and nodded. He felt Severus release his foot and tried to relax, wondering if he'd gone away, but then he felt his other foot taken up and treated to the same kneading, firm treatment. Only this time Severus's fingers were working their way up his leg, soothing away the knots in his calf.

And then Harry touched him. True it was just through the fabric of the knickers – but it was such a thin layer that it almost wasn't there at all. Draco bucked against the touch, squeezing his eyes even tighter shut when he heard Severus' mocking voice, telling him to calm down. Sod him, Draco thought desperately, as Harry's hand worked its way over the outside of his knickers with agonising slowness. Sod _him_.

Draco tried to breathe steady, to keep quiet and not make a fool of himself. He felt so exposed – and so needy, it was ridiculous.

"Relax," Harry whispered against his neck, following it up with a kiss and a soft, warm nuzzle. Draco tried to relax. He didn't mind Harry saying it – it was different to Severus' rude 'calm down'. He was calm! Quite calm! And nowhere near coming in his pants, not at all.

"Oh God," Draco mumbled, biting his lip and trying to hold himself together.

"Pardon?" Severus said.

Draco opened his eyes and glared at Severus with a will. "Nothing," he bit out through clenched teeth, but then Harry slid his hand _under_ Draco's knickers and skin was on skin and "oh _God_," Draco said, his mouth falling open. Then, summoning super-human strength, he shoved at Severus with his foot and twisted in Harry's lap, turning to straddle him on the chair. And not just straddle him – he practically launched himself at Harry's mouth, wrapping his hands around Harry's hair and shoving his tongue in Harry's mouth.

Harry made a muffled noise, but kissed back for all he was worth, hands moving up to grasp at Draco's hips so tight it hurt. Draco wanted to die. Harry's mouth was warm and wet, and his tongue was deft and enthusiastic. And then something else happened. Two hands tugged at his knickers and there was a ripping sound as the elastic tore. His cock hung free for a moment, and then a hand reached round and grasped it. _Severus'_ hand.

Draco thought about that for a split-second. It was bizarre. It was unexpected. But it certainly wasn't _bad_. In fact, Draco thought as he moaned into Harry's mouth, it was fucking fantastic. And then – oh God – one of Harry's hands moved away from his side and joined Severus' hand. For a while the movement was kind of jerky and uncoordinated, but they soon got a rhythm going and – Draco came. He came _hard_, Harry sucking on his tongue and Severus kissing the side of his neck.

It was too delicious and freaky and wonderful to be true.

*****

 

As Draco recovered, Harry wondered what they were supposed to do next. His cock ached, trapped in his trousers, but he didn't exactly want to ask for anything. That felt rude – and forward. Besides, he was enjoying just sitting there, admiring Draco in his post-orgasm glow. His skin was flushed and his hair a mess. He looked fabulous. And he was leaning up against Harry, his breath coming fast and light. Harry caught Severus' eye and smiled. Severus had a smug look on his face, but his cheeks were flushed and his hands were still trailing patterns on Draco's skin. Draco, to Harry's delight, was nowhere near protesting about it.

Severus raised an eyebrow, and Harry followed his line of sight to the corset, still loosely on Draco's chest. It was the work of a moment to prop Draco up and unfasten it, undoing the clasps from the front and letting Severus pull it off from behind. The suspenders and stockings were a little more tricky, but Draco shifted when prompted and they were soon disposed of. And then Draco was sitting in Harry's lap – completely stark bollock naked.

"Why am I the only one naked?" Draco demanded, looking Harry in the eye, the flush on his cheeks deepening.

Harry smiled at him, a lazy, happy smile. "Because you're the prettiest," he said and grinned wider.

Draco opened and closed his mouth – and Harry tried not to laugh at Draco's disconcerted look. It was rare that Draco was lost for words, and Harry reckoned it was a compliment.

"So Harry can fuck you," Severus said.

Draco's expression twisted, but he didn't look unwilling. Harry certainly didn't feel unwilling. The idea nearly made him come on the spot. And then Harry felt Draco's cock twitch, half-hard against Harry's stomach.

Harry wanted to. He wanted to _so badly_. But they were on the sofa, and this wasn't how he wanted their first proper time to go. It wouldn't be comfy for any of them. "Not _here_," Harry mumbled, hoping that Draco wouldn't take it the wrong way. "Not like this."

Draco slid off Harry's lap and Harry tried not to panic. He _had_ taken it the wrong way, Harry knew he had and then – Oh. He was kneeling between Harry's knees, back against Severus' chest.

"Then let me suck you off," Draco said, and looked shocked at himself, his cheeks flaring with colour that began to travel down his neck and across his chest.

There was no way Harry could say no to that. He nodded sharply, trying not to look too eager, and Draco reached forward, tugging at the fastenings at his waist and yanking his trousers and boxers under his arse and down his legs at the same time. And then, without even giving him time to think, Draco leaned forward and Harry's cock was enveloped in hot, wet bliss.

Draco's mouth was sloppy and his tongue soft and slippery. He moved quickly – too quickly, Harry thought – and Harry gasped and bucked, trying to fuck Draco's mouth. Draco _let_ him, and Harry opened his eyes – to look right into Severus' face. Severus was watching him, his expression greedy, and his right hand was working behind Draco's back. Harry strained up and Severus bent to kiss him, half-falling on Draco. Harry felt completely overwhelmed. Draco's mouth, soft and tight and wet around his cock. Severus' lips against his own. Severus _wanking_. Draco's naked body sandwiched between them.

Harry came, kissing Severus for all he was worth, winding his fingers tight into Draco's hair with one hand. And soon after Severus made a low, hissing noise and arched his back, pulling away from Harry's kiss.

Draco sat back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand – and then leaned over to kiss Harry, very briefly. Then, to Harry's amazement, he half-turned and pressed a very, very quick kiss on Severus' lips. "Cleaning spell, if you would be so kind," Draco said stiffly and Severus – already tucked back into his robes as far as Harry could see – complied, a smile hovering on his lips.

Harry sat up, half-rising to tug up his trousers and then reaching down to pull Draco back on to his lap.

"Draco makes a good Christmas fairy," Severus said with a snort.

"Fuck you!" Draco replied eloquently.

"Language, Draco," Severus replied.

"You're hardly one to—"

"I think this is my best Christmas present," Harry said, trying not to blush.

Draco and Severus both turned to stare at him.

"What?" Harry said, certain he was blushing now.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, in a quieter voice than usual.

Harry shrugged. "You know. Having you two."

"Merlin, he's such a Gryffindor, isn't he?" Draco said, addressing Severus. "He makes me feel quite sick."

"A masterly summation," Severus replied with a smirk. "You are talking perfect sense, for once, Mr Malfoy."

"Shut up, both of you," Harry said, "it's true."

"That you're an idiot?" Draco teased, but he put his arms around Harry and when Harry looked over at Severus, Severus was smiling at him.

And as the insults washed over him, Harry just sat back and grinned at them. It was an odd little family he had, that was for sure, but it was finally starting to make sense to him – and that really was the best present that Santa could have brought him.


End file.
